


Sulking

by PinkPandorafrog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: Shit got real when the quinjet went down. Good thing Darcy's not alone.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 18
Kudos: 246





	Sulking

The first thing Darcy noticed was that her head hurt. The second was that she wasn’t sitting upright anymore. She was still strapped in tight in the quinjet’s harness, albeit tipped forward, but opening her eyes revealed the whole back compartment was at an angle. To be entirely fair, the whole quinjet was probably at an angle.

“Hello?” she called into the eerie quiet. The quinjet had been making a whole lot of shrill beeping and alarm noises as it had gone down, and the silence seemed almost deafening without it.

“Yeah,” came a voice from the front.

Darcy let out a relieved sigh. Only one voice, which was potentially concerning - but the voice meant she wasn’t entirely alone.

“Everything okay up there?” Okay, that was a stupid question. Everything was  _ clearly _ not okay, given the fact that they were now tilted over on the ground somewhere and not still  _ in the air _ . She assumed it was ground. It wasn’t moving nearly enough to be bobbing on top of the water.

Unless they were underwater. There was too much light coming in for that, wasn’t there? She really hoped so. Being stuck underwater seemed like a level of fucked too far.

“I think Argyle’s dead,” came the voice. Argyle. That was the pilot? Which meant that was Rumlow currently talking to her. He’d been picking at her for most of the day, but still better than being alone. “My knee’s all bruised to shit, but I think I’m okay. You in one piece?”

“My head hurts, but I think that’s just the adrenaline crash. Or whiplash.” Or both. The pain wasn’t localized enough to be an impact, or at least that’s what she hoped. “We’re not underwater, are we?” There was a window up there, so he’d be able to tell.

“Nah. We hit the water, skidded up onto this island.” A click came from the front, presumably his own harness. “Can you get out?”

“Um…” The floor felt too tilted to get a firm footing on, and the other side of the craft was way over there. “I probably could? But not what I’d call safely.”

“Hang on.” Rumlow swung himself into the back, holding the wall as he slid down to stand on the side of the benches on the other side. He stole through the back until he was just about opposite her. “Let yourself out. I’ll catch you.”

“Yeah? You sure? It wouldn’t be too much of a burden for you?” she shot back. He’d made some crack about it being a pain in the ass babysitting the nerd squad. Maybe picking back at him wasn’t the best idea under the present circumstances, but she felt like she was grasping for control in a wildly out of control scenario.

His lips moved up in just the hint of a smile. “Oh, I’m sure I can handle it.” The subtle emphasis on  _ handle _ made her narrow her eyes.

“You want to have to go through a sexual harassment workshop when we get back?”

That brought on a full-fledged smirk. “Come on, Lewis. I won’t even tell the guys I was the first one to get to have you in my arms.”

“Darcy,” she corrected automatically. She eyed the space between him, the pitch of the floor. Even knowing he was positioned perfectly to catch her, it was still a little unnerving to undo the harness. She tried to get her footing as much as she could, but she still fell across to where Rumlow caught her against his body. “Thanks.” His body armor wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than breaking her nose on the wall.

“My pleasure.” He made sure she was steady on her feet before heading for the manual door release. “Darcy,” he added somewhat pointedly. The door swung down from the top to be a ramp. It didn’t open all the way, and water rushed in to cover the lowest part of the quinjet. His expression went serious, and he held up his hand. “Stay there.” He eased his gun out of his holster and slipped outside.

Darcy folded her arms as she waited for him. Judging by the air that seeped in through the open door, they were somewhere warm. That was better than somewhere freezing, although there was probably cold weather gear in the emergency kit tucked under the seat.

“Come on,” Rumlow said. About half of him reappeared in the opening for the door, his hand outstretched to help her.

She let him hand her out of the craft and onto sand. There were honest to god palm trees growing out of the foliage that bracketed the small beach, and jagged-looking black rocks on either side. It would be kind of nice if they hadn’t just crash-landed there. “Was the emergency transmitter blinking?”

He glanced at the front part of the craft. It was buried in the sand, broken glass and bits of metal all around it. No wonder Argyle hadn’t made it. “Don’t think so.”

“Well, fuck.” That didn’t mean SHIELD wouldn’t find them, it just meant potentially waiting for a bit longer. “Okay, you’re the badass field agent. What are we supposed to do now?”

“Well…” His hands came up to his hips as he looked around, squinting against the brightness. Beyond the palm trees, the beach was lined by denser, leafier trees and bushes, closing them off from the rest of the island. “Get a sitrep. Make a shelter, build up a fire. There’s emergency gear in there, so we’ll be fine for a few days.”

“Okay. Why don’t you get on that, and I’ll…” She gestured toward the quinjet.

“What, are you allergic to a little hard work?” he challenged.

She was fairly sure he was just trying to rile her up. And fuck if it didn’t work. “I mean, unless you know how to get the transmitter working again?” She raised her eyebrows in question. When he smirked, she shook her head. “Thought so.”

He pulled a pair of shades off the front of his shirt and slipped them on. “We shouldn’t split up until we know what’s going on.” His head tilted like he was looking her over. She couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought his eyes lingered on her curves. “You  _ do _ know how to shoot, right?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. Even the nerd contingent has to qualify with firearms.” Not exactly her favorite part of training.

He pulled the gun out of his holster, checking it before handing it over. “You think you can avoid shooting me?”

“I’ll try not to.” She took it and checked it as well, then tucked it into her waistband. It looked like an ICER, one of SHIELD’s special weapons. Which honestly was a little more comfortable for her than the whole traditional bullet thing.

Rumlow went back to the quinjet and rummaged around for a second before coming out with an impressive-looking machete. That had to be part of the emergency gear. “You ready?” He looked over her again.

“Yeah.” She had an open flannel shirt over her tank top that was already starting to get a bit warm, but at least she’d opted for jeans instead of a skirt. That bush looked thick.

“Watch my back.” He wielded the machete like he knew what he was doing, cutting a path for them through the thick bush. With nothing else to look at, it was impossible not to notice the flex in his arms and shoulders. At least she was spared looking at his back from the body armor. Why did such an asshole have to be so hot?

Birds called down from the trees, and there was enough rustling in the underbrush that Darcy reached for the gun a couple of times. It was humid as fuck. The only thing stopping her from taking off her shirt was the size of the mosquitos she’d seen Rumlow slap off his own arms.

They quickly found a stream and followed it a good ways inland. There was no trace of habitation anywhere around them. “This is probably some rich asshole’s island,” Darcy said when they stopped. “Just hoarding it to say he has an island, but nothing’s actually here.”

“Yeah? Maybe it’s Stark’s.” 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “We done exploring?”

Rumlow glanced around. “Yeah. Let’s head back. I’ll set up shelter close to the beach, build the fire up on the sand so it doesn’t spread.”

“You’re the badass field agent.” She followed him back to the beach, where he unzipped his body armor and let it drop on the sand. The black t-shirt underneath quickly followed. Darcy’s eyes widened before she turned away. The last thing  _ she _ needed was a sexual harassment workshop when she got back. Besides, this was the absolute worst time to be thinking about how nice he looked without a shirt, and not just because he was an asshole.

“You need a hand in there?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his opposite shoulder. She stole a peek, and could’ve sworn he was flexing.

“No, I’ve got it.” She headed back to the quinjet and picked her way carefully inside.

The flannel shirt was the next thing to go. She tied the sleeves around her waist for lack of anywhere else to put them.

She had to climb into the front. A glance at Argyle’s still form almost made her throw up. “Fuck,” she whispered, her eyes falling shut.

“You okay up there?” Rumlow asked from behind her where he was going through the supplies.

“Yeah. Just… Dead bodies. Not really my thing.” She paused, looking over her shoulder at him. “We should bury him or something, shouldn’t we? It’s already getting hot in here.” The smell would quickly become unbearable.

He raked his fingers through his thick hair. “Yeah. Guess we should. Come on.” He motioned to her.

She let him help her back out of the quinjet. They ended up burying Argyle off in the bush somewhere. Darcy didn’t really know him, but it was weird that he’d  _ died _ while they’d been on this trip.

Going back into the quinjet after was nicer in terms of there not being dead bodies in there, but it was still weird. Darcy kept her focus on Rumlow’s side of the front so she didn’t see the blood that had collected.

The transmitter was definitely  _ not _ on. Or rather, it had power going to it because it had its own separate power source, but it wasn’t actually doing anything.

She tapped at the little computer that ran it, but nothing happened. Even trying to restart the thing had no effect.

“Well, fuck,” she muttered under her breath. Still, it would raise an alarm when they didn’t arrive like they were supposed to. People would be sent out to look, and they couldn’t be too far off the flight plan. She tried everything she could think of, retrying things, trying to get some kind of response out of it.

She felt a little dejected as she came back out of the quinjet. It was starting to get dark, and visibility inside the cabin was getting worse.

She’d distantly heard the noise of building and occasionally swearing as the day went on, but she stopped short as she came out. Rumlow had erected a little structure. It wasn’t some grand treehouse, not much more than a raised platform with a tarp for a roof and mosquito netting all the way around, but he’d accomplished more than she had.

He looked up as she started across the sand toward him. “Couldn’t get any of the apps on your phone to work?”

“Fuck you.” She walked over to where he’d also built up a fire and sat down near it. It was warmth on top of warmth, but maybe it would help keep the bugs away. “I couldn’t get the transmitter to work at all. I think there’s some kind of electromagnetic interference going on.”

“Which means what?”

She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “They’ll have to find us by sight, not hone in our signal.”

“Huh.” He rested his hands on his hips. “Guess we better build up the fire.”

That would at least be productive. Darcy got up and brushed the sand off of her ass. She left the flannel shirt where it was, heading after him into the bushes.

There was all kinds of wood lying on the ground. It all felt damp, but more smoke would make for a more visible fire.

They built up the fire, and Darcy went to sit inside the mosquito netting, crossing her legs. There really wasn’t a whole lot of room in there. “Bit small.”

“Sure. We don’t need a whole lot of room.” He settled beside her and tossed a large foil package into her lap. “We’ll have to share body heat anyway.”

“Share…” She narrowed her eyes. “Get cuddly.”

“Best way to keep warm.” He picked up a water bottle and had a long drink before passing it to her.

“With you.”

“Unless you wanted to go dig up Argyle?” He glanced toward the bush. “Not that he’ll be very warm.”

“Too soon.” She took a drink before handing it back. She didn’t particularly want to eat, and particularly not an MRE, but there wasn’t really a whole lot of choice. She was going to sweat, which meant she needed to replace the lost salt content.

They ate. Darcy walked along the beach, looking for shells or traces of clams or anything. It was getting a bit chilly as night drew around them, and she put her flannel shirt back on.

Rumlow spread out a space blanket on the bottom of the platform, with another one bunched up at the end. “You gonna spend the night out there with the bugs?” he called to her.

“I might.” She let herself back into the little shelter. He’d put his shirt back on too, but his left his arms bare. “They’re less annoying.”

“Doesn’t feel as good when they bite you, though.” He lay on his side and scooted back.

She settled on her side, moving back until they were cuddled up. He got the blanket and pulled it up over them, his arm settling over her waist. She couldn’t really argue, because there was nowhere else for him to put it. Plus, she did welcome the warmth. And as much as she hated to admit it, the physical presence of someone way out here in the middle of nowhere was comforting.

And it had been a day. It had been a fucking day. Argyle, and the transmitter, and the idea that no one knew where they were… A tear collected in the corner of her eye, sliding down to pool on the side of her nose. She wiped it away, trying to be as surreptitious as possible.

“You okay?” Rumlow asked.

“Fine.” Her voice clearly indicated she wasn’t.

“We’ll get out of here.” He squeezed her a little tighter. “And we’ll be fine until we do. There’s lots of supplies in the quinjet.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you suddenly being so nice?”

“I’m real nice, Darcy.” He paused. “Which you’d know if you weren’t so intent on sulking the whole night.”

“Sulking?” she echoed. That would teach her to ever think he was nice. She shifted over enough to turn on her back and look at him. Muted orange light from the flames flickered across his face. “Sulking. I’m  _ sulking _ ?”

“What else would you call it?” he asked mildly.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe having some issues coping with everything? We crash land here. Argyle dies. There’s some metal in the ground or some shit that’s blocking the signal, and I’m stuck here with you. Not exactly my idea of a good time.”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with me?” There was a silky undertone to his voice that was hard to ignore. Not quite a threat, but an intensity.

“I dare show a human emotion, and you’re an ass about it. Just to start with.”

“Careful, Darcy.” He rose up on his elbow, leaning over her. “I spent the day making sure your ass had somewhere to sleep. You could be a little grateful.” The gravel in his words pulled at her. SHIELD frowned on fraternization as they called it, but fuck if the way he was looking at her wasn’t tempting. He was hot, his voice was doing that thing, and fuck… It was escape. It was feeling something other than utter hopelessness.

“And I was, what?” she challenged, her own voice a little husky. “Sitting in the quinjet and painting my toenails?”

“What else did you get done?” he countered.

Her eyes went wide as she stared up at him. “It was like sitting in a sauna, and I spent the day trying to make it so SHIELD would find your happy ass and pull you out of here. You know what? Fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” he echoed.

“You heard me.”

“You’re…” His lips quirked into a smirk. “You’re gonna wanna take that back, sweets.”

“Or what?” She lifted her chin.

He took her wrist, pressing it to the platform beside her head. “I don’t think you want to know.”

“Why? Are you all talk?” The words hung in the air between them, pulling against them like an elastic band pulled way too taut.

He leaned in and kissed her hard, his teeth biting into her lower lip.

The promise of it sparked through her. She worked her free hand between them and shoved him away.

He leaned back, his eyes hard on hers. She was breathing harder than normal, her breasts pushing into his chest. A smile slowly took over his face. “Last chance to apologize.” It was almost a challenge.

“No way in hell.”

He snagged her other wrist, pressing to the platform on the other side of her head. He lowered himself half-over her, his lips moving along the side of her neck.

It wasn’t exactly comfortable. But it was  _ something _ , something other than being alone in the dark. She arched her head to the side to give him more room even as she pulled against his grip.

He shifted, bringing both wrists over her head so he could pin them there with one hand. The other moved boldly up her side, dragging the tank top with it. His lips nudged into the spot just under her ear that tingled with warmth. Her breath caught, her eyes falling closed.

His fingers hooked into the top of her sports bra, pulling it down to expose her breast. His hand was immediately there to cover it, rolling her nipple between his thumb and the side of his palm.

“Fuck,” she breathed, pushing into his firm touch. Sensation arced straight down between her legs.

He made a pleased-sounding noise that feathered across her skin. His touch gradually increased in pressure until the bite was almost painful. Almost. It was sheer intensity, melting into sweet desire.

Darcy couldn’t keep still. She wanted to bury her fingers in his thick, dark hair, give it a good tug. She pulled on her wrists, but they were caught fast. “You gonna let me go?”

“Not even a little.” He licked up the line of her throat. “I told you, sweets. Too late for all of that.” He released her nipple, and she relaxed back against the platform, a long breath escaping her. His fingers skimmed down over her stomach until they got to the button at the front of her pants.

His cock pressed into her hip, a heavy promise. She waited until he was distracted with undoing her pants and yanked her hands free. Wedging them between their bodies, she shoved against his chest, hard enough to push him back.

“Oh no.” He reared back and grabbed for her, bringing her with him. They ended up sitting on the platform, her between his legs, her hands caught and held against one of her shoulders. His other hand pushed down into her pants, slipping past the waist of her panties. “Fuck, you’re wet.” His fingers slipped along her center, exploring as much as he could with her clothes still on.

“I thought I was sulking,” she shot back. Her hips moved, shifting down to give him even a tiny bit more room.

“You’re about to be doing a whole lot more than that.” Rumlow circled over her clit twice before sliding down to push one finger into the wet heat of her pussy.

She lifted her hips, chasing sensation. It wasn’t enough, one finger pushing in slowly just up to the first knuckle. “Yeah, but are you?”

He chuckled, one finger becoming two. He pumped them in and out a few times before they slipped free and trailed back up to her clit. He circled rapidly, his lips brushing along her ear. “This what you want?”

The heat rising in her body coiled in tighter with each deft circle, pushing everything else away. It was like they were the only two people in the world, and there was nothing beyond this, nothing beyond the warm haze of pleasure that gathered between her legs.

He stopped abruptly, his hand pulling completely out of her pants.

“What the fuck?” she protested, trying to get away from him in earnest.

“Get up on your knees.” When she hesitated, his stubble caught in the sensitive hollow behind her ear. “Get on your knees, or you’re going on your belly.”

That would be uncomfortable as fuck. She pulled away from him when he let her, rising up on her knees.

She heard him behind her, the rustle of fabric suggesting he was stripping off his own clothes. He reached around in front of her, easing the zipper down. He pulled her pants down over her hips, pushing them down around mid-thigh.

His hand landed against her ass in a solid swat. “Bend forward.”

Darcy turned to look at him, but he took her arms and bent her toward the platform. Trying to resist him only made everything that much more intense. She couldn’t get away, but she didn’t particularly want to. He held her there, one hand between her shoulder blades, the other lining himself up.

He buried his cock inside her in a sudden thrust that had her crying out. “That’s it,” he murmured. He caught her arm to pull her up against him, his hand settling on the base of her throat. He didn’t squeeze, but the promise of it was enough.

She didn’t exactly have a whole lot of leverage as he started pumping into her, but she met him as much as she could. The heel of his palm pressed just over her pubic bone, and what had felt almost impossibly tight was now sheer intensity as he bumped over her G-spot each time their bodies met.

She grabbed at him, her fingernails sinking in the flesh of his ass even as she raked along his forearm. There was nothing but unending sensation, hurtling her into ecstasy. He didn’t even slow as she clenched around him, the low words muttered in her ear urging her on.

The relentless drive of his cock only prolonged her pleasure, pushing her back over a second wave even as she came down from the first. It felt like it would never end.

At last Rumlow started to slow. He drove deep one last time before she felt the pulse of his release, then slipped free.

She sat on the platform. “You’ve been picking at me for this very reason, haven’t you?”

He didn’t answer, just settled beside her. One arm came around her, pulling her against him. “It’ll be okay, you know.”

“I know.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.


End file.
